Let Her Go
by Coopereid
Summary: Follow-up to 'One Song Away' from Spencer's POV. How does Spencer cope with losing Emily after the events of 'Lauren? Established Reid/Prentiss relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Follow-up piece to 'One Song Away', this one from Spencer's perspective. Takes place during 'Lauren' and the rest of season 6. As always, I own absolutely nothing in the Criminal Minds universe.

_You see her when you close your eyes, maybe one day you'll understand why e__verything you touch surely dies.  
_ - _Let Her Go_, Passenger

* * *

Spencer saw Emily's odd behavior and knew he should've said something. It had started after she met with her friend Sean McCallister, and only seemed to get worse as time went on. Every time he tried to bring it up or talk to her about it, she'd insist that it was nothing and change the subject. When she had taken off on the team, he had never been so nervous before in his life. He thought since they were a couple, they'd be able to confide in each other about anything. Unfortunately, he was proven wrong by her phone and badge in her desk. All he could do was wonder what he'd done wrong, to make her feel like she couldn't talk to him. Part of him wondered if Rossi and Morgan were going to profile that she'd had a boyfriend, and in turn, profiled him, but the other part of him was far too concerned about Emily's well-being. Much like the rest of the team, he had no idea where she could be or what she was doing, and he found that more disheartening than aggravating. He knew that he had to keep his mind on the case, but he couldn't help but think and worry about her.

All he heard about the takedown was that Derek had found Emily in the basement and she was going to the hospital in an ambulance. It took him no time at all to get to the hospital. He found Derek sitting in one of the waiting rooms and immediately sat down in one of the chairs. Sitting in that waiting room felt surreal: he was waiting for Emily to walk through those doors any minute and sit beside him, taking his hand and squeezing it, assuring him that she was fine. Based on what he had overheard from Hotch and Derek, she was far from that, but he had to have hope that she would pull through and he'd see her soon. They'd both suffered plenty of on-the-job injuries and came out fine, so she had to do it this time too. He tried drinking coffee, he tried pacing, he tried reading magazines: nothing was helping to pass the time. JJ kept going back to talk to attempt to talk to her doctors, and everytime she came back without an answer it was more and more frustrating.

JJ came in yet again with her hands by her side, and everyone's attention shifted up to her, sitting up straight. She gave an uncomfortable smile and right then, he knew: he wasn't going to see her again. She was gone and she wasn't coming back. No more movie nights, no more date nights, no more cuddling, no more talking for hours and not even noticing the time. Nothing. He couldn't feel, he couldn't think, and he was completely numb. His mind went into overdrive and he had to get out of there. He couldn't sit here anymore and dwell on it. He had to leave.

He barely heard JJ's statement of "She never made it off the table" before he was shooting out of his chair and heading for the nearest exit.

"Spence," she said softly, putting a hand up to stop him.

He couldn't speak, he just had to get out of there, but he knew she wouldn't let him go without an answer. "...I didn't have a chance to say goodbye," he said, only looking at her once before focusing on the ground in front of him.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, sighing. "Come here," was all the warning given before she pulled him into her arms, hugging him and rubbing his back.

He didn't have it in him to hold it in anymore: he wrapped his arms around her middle and rested his chin on her shoulder, crying. Emily was gone: their Emily, _his_ Emily. It wasn't like when Gideon or Elle left, no, this time it was permanent. She didn't just do something she regretted and take off. No, instead she was completely gone, and she wasn't coming back. He felt his body shake with every sob he let out, and he knew he wouldn't get them under control any time soon. He didn't care how his reaction would seem to anyone else: he was hurt and he had the right to be upset.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying when JJ had let go of him, but when she did, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, burying his head in his hands. This wasn't happening. It was a bad dream. It was one of his nightmares after taking his migraine medication, and sure enough, he'd wake up next to Emily and wrap his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair. Once he was all cried out, he looked around at his team, studied their faces, to confirm that he'd heard correctly and hadn't simply overreacted. Seeing that they were all just as upset and broken up, he knew he'd eventually have to come to the realization that she was gone.

* * *

The few days leading up to her funeral back in Quantico, he didn't go to work, and he didn't even have it in him to leave his apartment. The one time he did, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. Everywhere he looked was a memory of Emily, and he had to get away. He tried to drink the pain away, but it didn't work and only made realizing the truth more awful. When he was getting dressed for her funeral, he put on her favorite suit of his, and finished it off with his purple scarf. He knew it wasn't exactly funeral attire, but he remembered how much she loved it on him. She insisted on him wearing it on several of their outings, and he was never one to refuse.

To say her funeral was overwhelming was an extreme understatement. When he was told he'd be one of the pallbearers, he simply nodded and looked down at it, chewing on his cheek. He reached down, running his hand over the coffin. She was _there_. She wasn't standing with them and instead, she was lying in there. He would carry her over to her gravestone, with her name, date of birth, and date of death, and just sit back and watch as they lowered her into the ground, and nothing he could do would stop it. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and fought back the tears, reaching down and grabbing the railing with the help of five others, picking up her coffin and walking. When it was set down, he watched as flowers were placed on top, and tried to listen as the priest spoke, but he was completely tuned out. Instead of watching the funeral play out, he stared down at his shoes, continuing to fight back the tears and hoping this was all some sort of cruel joke. When they stepped up one-by-one, placing red roses on her coffin, he knew this was actually it. This was going to be his goodbye to her, and that killed him inside. He stood beside JJ and glanced over at the tombstone before shaking his head, willing all of this to be over.

His mind tried to tell him 'at least this way you can visit her', but he knew that wasn't it. He couldn't just sit in front of this stone, on freshly laid dirt, and talk to it as if it was Emily. He couldn't bring flowers by on his days off, lay them down, and pretend that everything was okay. He couldn't just go into work the next day and push all of this aside, putting it in the past and moving on with his life. Emily was the first person he'd ever been in love with, and he knew this hurt wasn't going away anytime soon.

After the funeral, he didn't want to do anything. He wasn't sleeping at night: he couldn't be in his bed without thinking of Emily or smelling her scent on his pillows and in his sheets. When he would finally fall asleep, all his mind would think of was Emily. He tried sleeping on the couch, but that only brought back memories of their nights, curled up on his couch and watching movies. He didn't want to go to work, get the newspaper in the morning, and he didn't even want to get his morning coffee. Instead, he wanted to sit in the dark and just think. Unfortunately, Spencer Reid wasn't the type of person to sit around and wallow in his pity party. He had to go back to work and give himself something as a distraction.

While sitting at his desk, he lingered on her last words to him, and they stung every single time they'd pop up in his mind. "_I love you, Spencer. I always have and I always will, I promise_". It almost made him wonder if she knew she was going to die when she fled to Boston. He tried to keep his focus on his case file, but all he could do was notice the empty desk beside him and the new picture on the wall with the other fallen agents. It was staring at him, almost mocking him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to get his work done with that picture always staring straight at his desk.

Rossi had come around to everyone's desks and told them about Seaver's graduation coming up. He was as miserable as he'd ever been and the team wanted to celebrate? Granted, graduating from the academy is a big deal, but he wasn't in much of a celebratory mood these days. Not to mention that he knew the void on the team would need to be filled, and the automatic assumption would be to give it to Seaver. He wasn't ready to replace Emily, because part of his mind didn't accept that she was gone. Part of his mind told him that they were all wrong and she'd walk through those doors any minute, apologizing for being late and stealing a kiss from Spencer when she had a moment to do so.

* * *

The first time Spencer showed up at JJ's house was the night before Seaver's graduation. He hadn't called first, so he could only hope that she'd be home. He took a deep breath before sighing, knocking on the door and waiting for a response. When the door opened and he saw JJ standing there, he was relieved, to say the least.

"Spence, I didn't know you were stopping by…"

He bit his lip. "I'm sorry, I-I know I didn't call first, but I was wondering if maybe we could talk?" he asked, burying his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, of course." She stepped aside, holding the door open. "Will just took Henry to the park so I have the house to myself. Come on in."

He walked inside, chewing on his cheek. "If you wanted privacy, I can come back another time?"

She shook her head, placing a hand on his back and leading him to the living room. "Can I get you anything? Some tea, coffee?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled, sighing.

"The great Spencer Reid doesn't want any coffee?"

He shrugged. "Coffee isn't important anymore."

She looked at him with sad eyes before holding her arms open. "Come on."

"Excuse me?"

"You're holding way too much in right now, and it's not going to do you any good. Come here."

He looked at her hesitantly before leaning in, burying his head in her shoulder and crying again. He'd thought he had been out of tears after all of the crying he did in his apartment, but apparently, he could still surprise himself.

She sighed, rubbing his back. "It's okay, Spence," she whispered, rubbing his back, before reaching up and soothingly running a hand through his hair, "let it out. It's okay to be upset."

"You're not," he mumbled against her shoulder between sobs.

She sighed, and if Spencer were on top of his profiling game, he would've noticed it. "I'm all cried out," she lied. "You really miss her, don't you?"

"More than anything," he said softly. "It's just pain no matter what I do, JJ, and it doesn't go away and it won't stop."

She bit down on her cheek before exhaling. "I'm here, Spence, okay? Anytime you need me, I'm going to be here for you, I promise."

He nodded slightly and cried until all that was left in him were dry sobs. He pulled back, mumbling an apology.

"Don't," she insisted. "Everyone grieves differently."

He swallowed. "Everyone grieves differently, and yet I'm the only one who can't get my work done. I've read up on grieving, JJ, and most people can cry and be over it, but I can't-"

"That's not a bad thing. You're emotional and it's a lot to take when you lose somebody so close to you. Nobody can tell you how to grieve or adjust to her being gone, Spence. I promise."

He had stayed at her house for over an hour. He tried talking about it, but all that came out of him were sobs and phrases such as 'I don't know what to do' or 'I miss her all the time'. He didn't care that they could be taken as the two of them being a couple, or him just mourning over the loss of a friend. All he knew was that he was going to have a lot to get off of his chest, and he was grateful for JJ's invitation.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't sleep that night. After taking the train home, he sat awake in his apartment, on the couch and clinging to a pillow. He tried reading, he tried watching TV, and he tried just lying down and relaxing. None of it was working for him, because his brain just didn't have a shut off. Everything, no matter what it was, reminded him of Emily, and thoughts of her were constantly flooding him. Instead of sleeping, he opted to stay awake and just stare. It was all he could do, considering he was now all cried out. At one point, he reached for his phone, dialing but not really paying attention. Before he knew it, he heard the voicemail for Emily's cell phone and licked his lips, sighing. Calling Emily when he couldn't sleep at night when he was alone had become a habit, and unfortunately for him, he didn't think it was one he'd be able to break soon.

Seaver's graduation was the first time the team was really gathered since the funeral, and he was disgusted by that fact. They had gone from mourning the loss of one of their own, and now they were all supposed to be happy and celebrating? It was a ridiculous concept. He had joined the team while he was still at the academy, and the team wasn't forced to attend his graduation, so why did they all have to be there for her? He didn't care if he seemed selfish, it was true. It was as if the BAU didn't care about their fallen team member, and only worried about finding her replacement as soon as possible. Spencer spent the entire time in his seat, nervously playing with the program in his hands. Her name was called and the rest of the team clapped, but he couldn't seem to do more than clap his hands together once and stay seated. He didn't want to seem disrespectful, but he just didn't have it in him.

* * *

The next day at work, they were all told there was a case and they needed to meet in the BAU room as soon as they got in. Since he hadn't slept, Spencer was wide awake early in the morning and immediately went to work, situating himself at his seat in the room. He set his things down and looked across from him as, for the first time, Emily wouldn't fill the seat there. He tried not to let everything get the best of him and not show his emotions at work, so he opted to look down at the table and tap his fingers, waiting for everyone else to show up. At first, he wondered where everyone was, checking his watch every minute. When he looked out the window, he saw Garcia and Derek in front of Emily's picture. It took everything in him to contain himself and not get upset. Seaver was the next person to walk in the room, and he just gave her a nod before his focus went out the window again.

Garcia walked in a few minutes later with a tray of cupcakes and he did his best not to scoff or lash out at her. Yes, Seaver just graduated, and it was a big deal to her, but they already celebrated, and he wasn't quite ready for being overly inviting and happy for other people. He watched as Derek and Seaver both took one, but when the tray was offered to him, he shook his head, tapping his pen against the table. He knew he was more likely than not getting looks for it, but that didn't matter to him. When the briefing had started, his mind wandered. With the case, he wondered what Emily would contribute, and when Seaver would say something, he couldn't stop himself from thinking 'Emily wouldn't ask that' or 'shouldn't you already know that?'. Instead of speaking up and getting himself in trouble, he decided the better option was to keep it all inside and focus all of his attention on the case, hopefully giving himself enough of a distraction that his mind wouldn't always be on the same subject.

Spencer knew he couldn't hold a grudge against the team forever, even though part of him told him that if they'd worked a little harder, done a little more, or found out about Ian Doyle sooner, Emily would be on this plane with them right now. He was just as responsible as they were, and that was part of the reason he wasn't sleeping at night. His mind knew that he could've done something to change the situation and make it better. He knew that if he'd done 'x', Emily would still be there and he wouldn't be feeling this miserable. He'd be able to sleep at night and wouldn't be as miserable as he could ever remember being.

While they were on the jet, they discussed what they could, but Spencer would be lying if he said he was completely tuned in. He sat on the couch and looked through the case file, occasionally giving his input. On the case, he did his best to work to his full potential and make the team proud of him, but as soon as they implied that the unsub could possibly be schizophrenic, he was reminded of his headaches and his mind went into overdrive. He took a few of his pills he'd been given to treat his migraines and hoped it would go away. Not only did they have a stressful case after emotional trauma, but now they were bringing schizophrenia into the mix and he was extremely uncomfortable with everyone else's generalizations. When the profile was being given, he tuned out again, and he felt guilty for it. The way they were talking about the unsub didn't match traditional forms of schizophrenia, and it almost seemed like guess work and assumptions. It finally reached a point where he couldn't take anymore. He dismissed himself, shaking his head and walking to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and hopefully clear his head so he wouldn't lash out at the next person to make a conjecture about schizophrenics. He heard the door open after him and he sighed, shaking his head, not looking forward to whoever it was feeling a need to talk to him.

* * *

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he realized it was Derek who had come in. Of everyone on the team, he hoped he could open up to him, because it's what he really needed. He wiped his face, sighing, reaching for a towel. "You know, that profile kind of makes it sound like schizophrenia leads to serial killing." He ripped out off of the roll, wiping his face.

"...That's not what we said at all, Reid."

He sniffed, crumpling up the towel in his hand. "You know, my mom has schizophrenia. There are many different types."

Derek nodded. "I know that."

He kept talking, as if Derek hadn't interrupted him. "Catatonic, disorganized - just because someone suffers from an inability to organize their thoughts, or they can't bathe or dress themselves," he wiped his hands, quickly facing Derek before leaning against the sink, "doesn't mean they'd stab someone in the chest 30 times postmortem."

"Reid, what's really going on?"

He hesitated, not sure if he was talking about the case or his personal life, so he decided to make it about work, considering they were on the job right now. He dared to look up at Derek again, hoping his oncoming rant would be enough to keep himself from getting upset again. "Our unsub's hallucinations aren't fractured like a typical schizophrenic. They're vivid and clear, leading me to believe that we're missing an important variable. Rather than making crazy conjectures, I think we should be trying to figure out what it is."

"Okay, listen to me. I know this is a scary age for you. It's when schizophrenic breaks happen. Have you talked to anybody about this?"

He chewed on his cheek before answering him softly. "Emily." He put plainly, before licking his lips and focusing on a tile on the floor.

"Have you seen a doctor?"

"They all say I'm fine."

"Then why don't you believe them?"

"Because predicting one's chances of developing a genetic condition are like finding a penny in an ocean." He exhaled, knowing that he could no longer hold everything in. "I have terrible headaches. I can't sleep at night. I can't focus on our cases. I only read 5 books last week." It was a silly thing to mention, considering how hurt he felt about everything, but he figured it would get his point across about how upset he really was.

"Come on, kid, you gotta cut yourself some slack. You're also depressed about Prentiss, and I get it— we all are. Reid, I miss her every day." Part of Spencer's mind told him to tell Derek 'not as much as I do', but luckily, he was able to stop himself and save himself an embarrassing moment. "But if your mind was splitting, do you really think you'd be able to figure out that this team is missing a variable?"

He bit on his cheek and swallowed. "I'm just speculating that we are. I need to prove it."

"Okay, then you do that. The moment you are wandering around the streets aimlessly, that's when I'll be concerned about you. Come on, Pretty Boy. Let's get to work." Spencer smiled slightly at the familiar nickname, not having heard it in quite some time.

He nodded slightly, following Derek out of the bathroom. Before making it back to the team, he tried to find his voice. "...Derek?"

Derek turned around to face him, cornering him in so nobody would see what they were talking about, and he definitely appreciated it. "What's up, kid?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

He licked his lips, thinking to himself how to best word it. "After we get home… I was wondering if maybe we could talk? I know we just did and if you can't or don't want to, I can call up JJ and spend some time with her, but I figured it might be a good idea for two of us to talk through it, and maybe that'll be what I need to finally be at peace with what happened." He knew there wouldn't be such a thing as 'at peace', but he needed the conversation to ground him.

Derek thought about it before nodding. "Yeah, no problem. My place or yours?"

Spencer shrugged. "Mine? You could give me a ride home from the airstrip and we could talk, unless you want to get home?"

"It's fine. Your place after we get home sounds great." He patted Spencer's arm before turning around, walking back to the team.

Spencer took a few minutes to collect himself, not wanting to bring everything he felt in the bathroom back to the team. He really did need to talk to someone, and Derek seemed like the best choice, considering he's the one that had found Emily and the two of them were definitely on similar levels of hurting over the situation. Though they did their best to keep their relationship a secret, Spencer didn't see the point in it being that way anymore, considering Emily wasn't coming back. If he was going to talk to Derek, he was going to put everything out on the table and not keep any secrets, because he needed to put it all out there to hopefully help himself come to terms. There was nothing the bureau could do to them now to stop them, so he was ready to tell someone.

Luckily, Spencer was able to get his head on straight just long enough to help with the case, though he still hadn't slept a full night. He would sleep for mere minutes before he'd be wide awake and need to do anything else. When they were getting on the jet, he told himself he'd sit on the couch and hopefully get some shut eye after they took off. What he hadn't expected was lying down after they were able to move freely, resting his bag under his head, and instantly falling he asleep. He could vaguely hear his teammates talking in the background, but soon tuned them out and slept through the flight, the longest sleep he'd had in quite some time. When he woke up nearly four hours later, he couldn't believe that he'd actually stayed asleep that long, though part of him understood why. His dreams gave him Emily, and not the gone Emily, but the Emily he knew and loved. His Emily. And that's exactly what he needed to keep him asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

After they landed back in Quantico, Hotch gave everyone permission to go home and get some sleep, getting the case off of their minds. Nobody refused and they all started going to their respective cars. Derek nudged Spencer, motioning toward his car, and Spencer nodded, following him. When Derek unlocked the doors, Spencer threw his bag into the backseat before getting in, buckling his seatbelt and sighing.

"Do you still want to talk?" Derek asked, turning to face him once he started the car.

Spencer thought about it and sighed. "There are a few things I need to get off of my chest that aren't going to be covered in the evaluation we'll need to do, and you're one of few people I'd trust with the information."

"Consider me flattered."

He smiled slightly as Derek pulled out of the parking spot, driving to his apartment. His dreams of Emily had only reassured him in his decision to talk to Derek about their relationship. All of the thoughts weren't going away anytime soon, so he figured at least getting them out there could help in some way.

* * *

The two of them were sitting in Spencer's living room, Spencer nursing a glass of wine in his hand and sighing every few seconds, trying to come up with how he wanted to start this conversation.

"What's got you distracted, kid?" Derek asked, leaning forward and looking at him. "You can talk to me about anything."

He bit his lip, nodding, before taking a sip of his wine. "I know, and I really appreciate that, it's just… I don't know how to approach the subject." He looked up at Derek. "This is something I used to confide in with Emily, and I need your word that it doesn't leave the two of us."

"Of course."

He cleared his throat, sitting up straight. "And I need you to hear me out. No interruptions, it all needs to get out there."

Derek nodded his understanding.

Spencer took a deep breath before focusing on his carpet. "I miss Emily every single second of every single day. I've gone through the first few stages of grief and I just keep cycling it over and over and over again. I've tried denial and telling myself that she was going to come back, but then I realize she isn't. I've gotten angry, and that just leads to bargaining and depression, and I just get stuck in that until I get in denial and angry again. It just never ends." He set down his wine glass, running a hand through his hair and sniffing, feeling the tears coming. "She was so much more than just a teammate to me. She was everything." He took a shaky breath before continuing. "I loved her so much, and I still love her with every fiber of my being. I'm not sleeping, I'm barely eating, and I can't focus because I'm always thinking about her. How do you go from thinking you're going to spend the rest of your life with somebody to just going about your days as if nothing happened and I never loved her at all?" He buried his head in his hands, unable to hold back the tears anymore. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

He felt the couch dip beside him and knew that Derek had moved over to him. Derek's arms wrapped around him and all he could think to do was bury his head in Derek's shoulder. "...You wanted to marry her, didn't you, kid?"

He sniffed, nodding against his shoulder. "I asked her mother, I bought the ring… and I can't anymore. She's gone." His voice cracked and he screwed his eyes shut.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying when he realized he couldn't make another tear even if he tried, but he was definitely grateful for Derek's help and company that night. He felt that breakdown coming on for a long time, and was glad it hadn't come when he was alone with his thoughts. He swallowed, pulling back and wiping his eyes, sighing. "I'm sorry."

Derek shook his head, reaching behind him for a box of tissues and holding it out to him. "Don't sweat it. I had my own breakdown, and it wasn't pretty either."

He took a tissue and wiped his eyes. "I just… I don't know what to do, and that's a first for me."

"Let me call Guinness."

Smiling slightly, he crumpled up the tissue in his hand. "I feel so lost. I finally understood why Jonny McHale would call his girlfriend's phone all the time just to hear her voice, and I hate that I can relate to a past unsub, even though he wasn't really _all_ bad. I get upset and I find myself on the phone and just listening to her voicemail telling me 'This is Emily Prentiss, please leave a message', and I leave her messages and I just don't know why I'm doing it."

"It's because you miss her, kid. It's okay."

Spencer swallowed, chewing on his cheek. "And I don't know how I'm supposed to keep doing a job saving the day when we couldn't even come together and save her." He glanced up at Derek. "I don't blame you, Derek, you were there for her and you were the last face of ours she saw, and thank you for being so good with her and, I don't know, making it less painful for her before she-" he swallowed, shaking his head. "Thank you."

Derek reached over, squeezing his arm. "No problem."

He sniffed, sighing. "Everything I do, everything I hear, everything I see just takes me back to Emily. I need a distraction but I just can't find one."

Derek took a deep breath. "Time to reveal my secret."

Spencer looked up at him, eyebrow raised. "Excuse me?"

"That case… I haven't let it go, and I'm not going to until we have Doyle in custody. I don't care how long it takes, I don't care how much time, and I don't care what I have to do, even if it means bending and breaking the rules. Having to find Emily… that was the fuel for my fire, and I'm making it my life goal to find that bastard. In fact, I am going to _promise_ you that we'll find him so we can have justice for her."

Spencer didn't know what to say. He wasn't going to let go of the case either, but knowing that Derek was on his side and just as driven definitely made him feel better. "You promise it?"

"I promise, we're going to get him."

Spencer gave a small smile, wiping his eyes. "But how do I stop feeling so… vulnerable?"

"If you're open to suggestions? The gym is a hell of a place to work off some aggression."

"...Because I belong in a gym?"

Derek smirked. "_Or_ you could go to the shooting range, because that will _definitely_ help."

Spencer seemed to contemplate it before nodding. "I hope so."

Derek ended up staying for a few more hours, until he was sure that Spencer would be fine once he left. Before he did leave, he made Spencer promise that he would call him anytime he was extremely upset, and it didn't matter if it was day or night, he'd pick up the phone. Spencer was glad that he'd had the opportunity to put everything with Emily out in the open, and didn't have to answer a ton of questions about it. Derek had taken the news much better than he'd expected, and he'd been a great friend to him that night. He could've very easily stayed for a few minutes and then left, leaving Spencer an emotional mess, and Spencer was grateful he hadn't. That night was the first time that Spencer had more than twenty minutes sleep, and he hoped it was the beginning of a good thing starting for him.

* * *

Spencer had started feeling better: by no stretch of the imagination was he going to get over Emily easily, but he was finally able to sleep at night. Every week, as if it was an appointment, Spencer would knock on JJ's door and talk to her about what was bothering him, and it would usually end with him crying and letting everything out. Based on Derek's suggestion, he'd taken up a hobby of going to the shooting range. When he would go, he'd put on the headphones and take a few deep breaths before getting into the correct mindset. He'd recall his lessons from Hotch and everything he'd learned from the last few years, and that would be all he'd need to shoot. Never fail, he would hit his mark every single time, a definite improvement from how he used to shoot. The only difference aside from his experience was that now, he had a target in mind. Spencer was never the violent type, or one to want to use his weapon, but Derek had promised him that they'd find Doyle, and when it came down to it, he wanted to take what mattered most to him, like he'd done.

He was sitting in his apartment, flipping through a book, when his phone rang. He raised an eyebrow, checking the number, not recognizing it as anything local, or anything in the United States for that matter. Though he wasn't sure who it could be, he decided to answer.

"Hello?" he asked, tucking a bookmark into his current page and leaning back on the couch.

There was silence on the other end and he wondered if this was a prank call or one of those spam phone calls he'd been getting the past few months.

"...Hello?" he asked again, checking the phone to see if the call was still connected. Seeing that it was, he spoke up. "Is anyone there?"

Whoever was on the other end hung up and he got up, looking through his bookshelf and trying to find a book that would tell him where the call came from. Picking out a few, he scanned them and verified that it wasn't from the United States, so he soon resorted to personal research. Not long after, he discovered that the call had come from France, specifically somewhere around Paris. He was confused: he didn't know anybody in Paris, and he had to wonder why anyone from Paris would be calling him. Figuring that he was just overthinking a wrong number, he shook his head and decided to turn in, getting some much needed sleep.

* * *

Everything seemed to be going okay for Spencer - until Hotch was ordered to do evaluations of everyone on the team. He knew this wouldn't lead anywhere good. Derek had gone in calm and left very angry, and the look he gave Spencer told him that he was off to his office to work on the Doyle case. Spencer leaned back in his chair, knowing that if Hotch had broken down Derek, there was no hope for him to keep it together. In the meantime, he did his best to keep himself buried in his work. He heard the door to Hotch's office open and sighed, hoping it wasn't his turn.

"Reid, could I see you in my office?"

He exhaled, nodding, getting up from his desk and walking up the steps, walking into Hotch's office and taking a seat on the couch. He watched as Hotch came in, closing the door behind him, and sat down in the chair facing the couch. Hotch seemed to study him, and Spencer hated that he did, especially considering that the team had agreed not to profile each other.

Spencer knew he had to talk, so he said the first thing that came to mind. "Last time I was on a couch like this was when my father left. They all thought I needed to talk, but developmentally I wasn't guided by conscience. I could only reveal what my mother and teachers told me was acceptable."

"...You told them exactly what you knew they wanted to hear. You don't have to do that here."

He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts and find the right way to phrase his feelings. "It's just not fair that she's gone. It's like if we can't keep each other safe, then why are we even doing any of this? I just- Sometimes I think maybe- maybe Gideon was right, you know, maybe… maybe it's just not worth it." His voice was cracking and he knew he was at a point of no return, so he bit his lip and shook his head, shutting down. He hadn't felt this bad in a while, and he hated that all of these feelings resurfaced.

Most of the questions Hotch asked were answered with short answers, such as nods, headshakes, 'yeah's, 'no's, and 'maybe's.

Once the meeting was over, he nodded, walking out to his desk and sitting down, reaching for his phone and calling JJ.

"Spence, is everything okay?"

He sighed, wiping his face and swallowing. "No. I-I'm having a really bad day." He bit down on his lip. "I understand if you're too busy or if you have plans with Will or want to spend more time with Henry, but I was wondering if maybe I could stop by again tonight? I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's fine. Stop by after work, we'll have some tea, we can talk, and whatever else you need. I'm here."

He swallowed, mumbling a thank you, before hanging up and burying his head in his hands, sighing. He really wished the evaluation could've been earlier and not several weeks after the fact. He was finally getting to a place when he wasn't constantly in pain, and everything came flooding back.

* * *

He had gone to JJ's, and as he'd expected, she'd sent Henry and Will away, and he spent most of the time crying, as he usually did. When he was walking home from the train station, his phone started ringing.

"Hello?" he asked, clearing his throat, his voice cracking. There was no response and he sighed, wiping his eyes. "Hello, is anyone there?" Breathing on the other end told him that someone was there and he pulled the phone back, checking the phone number. Seeing the same number as before, he sighed, frustrated. "Listen, I know this area code is France, and judging by the country code, it's somewhere in or around Paris. If this is a spam phone call, I'd appreciate the message that I've won a free vacation and just need to give you my credit card information. If somebody is actually there, I'd enjoy hearing something that isn't heavy breathing in my ear. Now, can you say something?" Whoever was on the other end hung up and he groaned, shoving his phone into his pocket. He was really growing sick of getting these phone calls, and could only imagine what they were going to do to his phone bill. Once he made it home that night, he locked his doors and hung his coat and bag up, before pouring himself a glass of wine and sitting on the couch, running a hand over his face. It felt like in that one meeting with Hotch, all of the progress he's made was erased and he was back at square one, in that waiting room, breaking down all over again. He knew he wasn't going to sleep tonight, and he was positive he wasn't going to feel like himself again for a very long time.


	3. Chapter 3

One day, Spencer had his worst day in a while: he hadn't slept the night before, he'd had an extremely long day at work, and staring at the void where Emily used to sit was only making him feel worse. He knew the one thing he needed to do was talk, so he reached for his phone, trying to call Derek. Leaning back on his couch, he waited for an answer, but unfortunately it never came and he got his voicemail.

"Morgan? Derek? I… I'm really sorry if I'm bothering you and you have something better to do, but I had a really bad day and I need to talk to someone. I'm going over to JJ's to see if she's home so I can talk to her, but if she isn't… can you please just call me back? If you don't want to talk to me it's fine, I just… I need… I don't know. Again, I'm really sorry for bothering you."

He hung up, burying his head in his hands and sighing. He put his bag over his shoulder and slipped his shoes back on, walking out of his apartment and taking out his car keys, getting in and driving to JJ's house.

Pulling up to JJ's house, he saw the car wasn't in the driveway, but he just assumed Will had taken Henry out of the house. He got out of the car, exhaling, closing the door behind him and walking up the front steps, knocking. Standing back, he put his hands into his pocket, waiting for someone to come to the door. When nobody came, he leaned over, pressing the doorbell a few times. He took his phone out of his pocket, sitting on the front step and calling her.

"JJ, please pick up," he whispered, trying to keep his leg from shaking. "Please pick up, _please_ pick up."

The phone went to voicemail and he hung up, burying his head in his hands and groaning. When had he become so dependent on other people that he was going to have a legitimate breakdown over the fact that his phone calls weren't being answered or the fact that someone wasn't home when he wanted to talk to them? When had he become the type of person to second guess the fact that his team and family cared about him because they weren't around? He disliked the person he was becoming and wished he could turn back the clock and save Emily himself, so he wouldn't be this miserable.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when he decided he needed to stop looking so pathetic and go home. He attempted to call JJ a few more times, but when each call went unanswered he shook his head, stuffing his phone into his pocket and walking back to his car, getting in and starting it. Wringing his hands on the steering wheel a few times, he tried to collect himself and stop being upset, but he knew it was no use - he was never going to stop being upset, because he was never going to get what he needed to calm himself down. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

Once he got home, he paced around his apartment, his phone in his hand, waiting for someone to call him back. He begged his phone to ring, so someone, _anyone_ would just talk to him and calm him down. He knew what he was feeling right now, and he needed it to go away before he went down a road he worked so hard to get away from. The familiar itch was under his skin, and the nagging was in the back of his head, telling him it'd be worth it. Screwing his eyes shut, he shook his head: he didn't want to go back there, and after everything it took him to get clean, he _wouldn't_ go back there. He ran a hand over his face, exhaling, trying to call both of them one more time. Getting both of their voicemails, he groaned, throwing his phone and sinking onto the couch, burying his head in his hands.

_I can't do this to myself again. I can't go down that road. I'm nearly three years clean, I don't need to go back there._

_But you'll feel better…_

_For how long? Is throwing away three years of progress worth the temporary high?_

_If it gets rid of the pain for just a little while, it might be._

He wiped his eyes, sighing, hating himself for even thinking about it.

Trudging to his room, he told himself that he was going to sleep on this, and hopefully sleeping would get rid of the thoughts. He unbuttoned his shirt and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it in the corner toward his laundry basket, ultimately missing. Shrugging, he put on his pajamas and laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and praying for sleep to come to him. When it had been a few hours, he checked his phone, just to be sure he hadn't left it on silent. He turned the volume up all the way before plugging his phone in, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, hoping he could shut off his brain for just an hour, sixty minutes, so he could actually get some sleep.

* * *

His alarm going off was his way of knowing that he'd sat awake all night, trying to get to sleep. He contemplated reaching for his phone and calling in sick, just hoping that he'd be able to lay down, close his eyes, and relax enough to shut down his mind and get some sleep. Unfortunately, since the team was down an agent, a sick call would be greeted with several questions of if he could still work. Groaning to himself, he ran a hand over his face and sighed, stretching slightly and checking his phone, to be sure he hadn't missed any calls. Sure enough, he had no messages, no missed calls, and no voicemails, so he came to the conclusion that Derek and JJ were more likely than not ignoring him at this point, though he could hardly blame them, with how clingy he'd become recently. Shaking his head, he reached around for his glasses and realized they'd fallen into the drawer of his nightstand. Opening it, he blindly reached in and grabbed them, putting them on. He glanced inside and saw a small velvet box. Biting his lip, he picked it up and flipped the top open, looking at the ring inside. He hadn't lied when he said he planned on spending the rest of his life with Emily. Shortly before everything with Ian Doyle, he'd gotten in touch with her mother, which was no easy task, and asked if he could meet up with her, to discuss marrying her daughter. It wasn't the most pleasant thing he'd done, but he knew it would mean a lot to Emily when he finally asked her. He traced a finger over the small diamond, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to keep himself together, not wanting to get upset before going into work. He quickly shut the box, throwing it into his nightstand drawer and slamming it shut, burying his head in his hands.

He decided to get ready for work quickly and get there early, so he could hopefully have his coffee and bury himself in his work. Once there, he filled up his mug and poured in his sugar before sitting down at his desk and grabbing his first file, looking through. By the time anyone else on the team had gotten in, he was on his third cup of coffee to keep himself awake and only his second case file. He wasn't keeping tabs on anyone coming in, mainly because he just wanted to get his work done and go home.

Someone leaned against his desk and he ignored them, trying to keep his focus.

"Listen, kid, my phone was dead and charging all night, so I only got your message this morning. Is everything okay?"

He shrugged, sipping his coffee. "Everything's fine," he mumbled, clicking his pen a few times.

He sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to answer my phone, but you don't need to lie to me. If something's bothering you, I'm here."

He chewed his cheek. "Nothing's going to bring her back, and all of the crying and complaining in the world isn't going to change that, is it?" he said softly, getting up and walking to the break room to refill his cup.

Unfortunately, Derek had followed him. "I really am sorry. I thought things were getting better for you."

"Well, evidently, I lied." He poured his coffee and opened the cabinet, taking out the sugar container.

"Did JJ end up being home, did you talk?"

"No, she wasn't, and as a grown man, I need to accept the fact that not everyone's going to be around to fix my problems and I need to stop being a child over something that's beyond my control."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong? Come on, talk to me."

"Talking doesn't help," he admitted, pulling open the sugar container and realizing it was empty. Frustrated, he threw his mug into the sink, the shattering sound it made going straight to his heart, as Emily had bought that mug for him. Before Derek could say anything else, he shook his head and went to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

* * *

He screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip. He wasn't going to break, and he especially wasn't going to break _here_. He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down so he could go back to work. When he realized his phone buzzing in his pocket, he figured it would be someone yelling at him for his little outburst. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he braced himself for the worst. When he saw JJ's name on the caller ID, he sighed, answering it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Spence… did you come by last night? My neighbor told me that someone came by, knocked, rang the doorbell, and stuck around for a while. Will and I had met my mom for dinner so we weren't around-"

"Yeah it was me," he said, cutting her off. "I um. It was nothing."

"...Are you sure? I turned my phone back on and I saw eight missed calls from you. You never call that much unless something's wrong."

He wiped his eyes, cursing himself. "It was something, but I dealt with it like I should, instead of crying about my problems to someone who has no control over the situation."

She sighed. "Spence, if you need to talk, I'm always here for you, I promise."

"Just like last night?"

"I'm sorry, I should've kept my phone turned up, it won't happen again. Just, you can trust me. Really."

He cleared his throat. "JJ, I need to get back to work."

"Just… call me if you get upset or anything, okay? I'm here."

"Yeah, bye," he said quickly, hanging up. He washed his face and checked his reflection, straightening his tie before walking back out to his desk. He saw a large takeout cup of coffee on his desk and inspected it before opening it, taking a sip. With quick thinking, he determined it was from Derek, since he was the only one on the team who saw his little outburst. He wasn't too proud of himself for it, but he could only hope that Derek wouldn't tell Hotch, resulting in another evaluation that would only aggravate him more.

* * *

A few days later, Spencer sat in his apartment, staring at the two vials in his hand. He wished he hadn't, but with his eidetic memory, he remembered the number for a dealer. He'd quickly handed over the money, grabbed the vials, and had gotten out of there before he changed his mind. Emily was gone, and he knew that, but he needed something to dull the pain for a while, even if it did cause flashbacks. His mind was nagging him, saying that he wouldn't only have the flashbacks from before, but he'd also be reminded of all his time with Emily, and that would only make things hurt worse. He toyed with the vials, moving them around his palm and taking a few deep breaths, trying to brace himself and give himself the strength to do it again. The sobriety coin in his pocket was mocking him, and he knew the second he took these, he'd be back at square one again. There was an internal debate for a while, but ultimately, his body told him it was craving the drugs and cared more about the temporary release than the progress he'd made.

Biting his lip, he dug through his bag, taking out a syringe and tourniquet, setting them on the table. He set the vials beside them and screwed his eyes shut, exhaling, before rolling his sleeve up, staring at his track marks. As he reached for the rubber tourniquet his phone started ringing. Groaning, he took it out of his pocket, answering.

"Hello?" he asked, running a hand over his face.

"Hey, kid, are you up to anything tonight?"

He eyed the bottles, chewing on his cheek. "Yeah, something, why?"

"The theater down the street from my place is showing some old French movie, and I thought you might want to go."

He reached out, grabbing the tourniquet and wrapping it around his arm, biting his lip. "You hate French movies - the subtitles annoy you."

"Well, yeah, but I figured it'd be something you'd like. You've been spending a lot of time in your apartment lately, and I think it might be good to get out for a while, you know, get your mind off of things."

Spencer knew by 'things' he meant 'Emily', and he wasn't in the mood for someone to pity him. "Yeah, um, thanks but actually no thanks. I um, I'm spending the night in. I'll see you at work tomorrow." He hung up, putting his phone on the table and exhaling.

The back of his mind was yelling at him, telling him that there were better, safer things for him to do, and oddly enough, it started sounding like Emily's voice. At first it relieved him, but then it made him more upset, and made him realize he needed to high to get rid of it. He reached over, grabbing the syringe with a shaky hand, then picking up one of the bottles.

* * *

There was a knock on the door but he ignored it, filling up the syringe and biting down on his lip.

"Reid? I know you're home, your car's out front. Come on, I just want to talk."

Talk? He wasn't in the mood to talk. He brushed it off, tapping the syringe with his fingers and licking his lips, exhaling.

"Kid, if you don't open up, I'm coming in anyway. You sounded off on the phone, come on."

He rolled his eyes. He sounded _off_? His girlfriend was dead, of course he didn't sound perfectly content. He reached over, tightening the band on his arm and taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He picked up the syringe from his lap and sighed, trying to find the strength to give up nearly three years of sobriety and get it over with.

He had just put the needle near his arm when he made the realization that he hadn't locked the front door when he came back from picking up the Dilaudid. Not having time to get up and lock it, he bit his lip, attempting to poke the needle through his skin.

"Reid?" Derek called out, walking in. He glanced over at the couch and ran over, holding his hand with the needle. "Reid, _no_. You don't need to do this."

Spencer sniffed, lip shaking. "I don't have a choice. I need to get her out of my head. I need the pain to go away."

Derek tightened his grip. "Spencer, come on, kid, look at me. You're better than that needle, you hear me? You're smarter than that, you're better than that. You've been clean for nearly three years and I know you can make it there."

He quickly shook his head. "I-I can't."

"You can and you will." He pried the needle out of Spencer's hand, setting it on the table behind him and wrapping his arms around the smaller man, pulling him into a hug. "You don't need to do it. You've come so far and there's so much more you can do, I promise."

He sniffed, burying his head in Derek's shoulder and crying. "It hurts!"

Derek sighed, reaching down and untying the band on his arm, before wrapping his arms around him again. "I know, kid. I know." He ran his hand through Spencer's hair and rocked him gently. "It sucks and it's not going to stop sucking, but there are better answers out there than that. I'll help you, I'll do whatever I can, just _don't_ go back there."

* * *

How long he'd cried he wasn't sure, but he knew as soon as he stopped that he was absolutely exhausted. Derek pulled back, taking his hand. "Come on."

"...What?"

Derek picked up the syringe and vials, leading Spencer to the kitchen and pointing to the trash. "Get rid of it."

Spencer chewed on his cheek, eyeing the drugs, then the bin. He could do it. He could get rid of them and do absolutely anything else on the planet to get rid of the pain… but he'd paid good money for a high he desperately needed.

Derek leaned against the counter, watching him. "Come on, kid. I know you can do it."

"I need something," he said softly. "I can't do it anymore."

"Then you come and talk to me, or you talk to JJ. Hotch did his evaluations and as far as he's concerned, you passed, and I'm not going to tell him a damn thing as long as you promise me that this," he started, pointing to the Dilaudid, "is over."

"What can I do?"

"You talk. I'll drive you to some of your meetings. You go to the firing range and you picture Doyle's head on every single target. You help me with this case and find that son of a bitch. You just don't go back there, because you know the withdrawals are NOT worth the high."

Spencer swallowed. "I'd be at three years next month," he whispered.

"And you still will be if you get rid of it." He crossed his arms. "And if you need me, I'll be here, but that stuff has to be gone."

He sighed, tossing the vials into the trash.

"And the needle."

He bit his lip, nodding, emptying the contents of it and putting it into a bag, throwing it away. He gripped the counter, biting his cheek. "Emily hates drugs," he said softly, "she would've never forgiven me if I did it." He sniffed, wiping his eyes. "Not that it makes much difference now, right?"

Derek pulled him into another hug, sighing. "I'm not leaving you alone tonight. When's your next NA meeting?"

"Tomorrow night," Spencer said, muffled against his shirt.

"I'll drive you there, you'll go, you'll get everything out there that you can't tell me or JJ, and you'll get the urge out of your system, and if it's not? You talk. Promise me."

"But Derek-"

He shook his head. "Promise it."

Spencer sighed. "I promise."

Once Spencer was done sobbing against his shirt, Derek led him to the bedroom, pulling the blankets over him and turning out the lights. Derek left his room, leaving the door open a crack, leaving Spencer to mentally kick himself. Derek was right - he didn't need to go back on drugs and just needed to talk about his problems. It might not have always felt like the answer, but it was definitely a solution he needed to pursue before going to drastic measures. Shaking his head, he cursed at himself a few times before he let his eyes slip shut, getting some much needed and long overdue sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer sat up in bed the following morning, rubbing his eyes and thinking to himself. He hadn't remembered going to bed: in fact, he couldn't really remember much about the night before, which made him panic. He immediately pushed up his sleeve and looked at his arm, relieved not to find any new track marks on his arm. Leaning against his headboard he sighed, running a hand through his hair and exhaling.

When he heard someone else in his apartment, he raised an eyebrow, wondering if he'd invited someone over. He stood up, stretching, opening the door to his bedroom and walking down the hallway. He saw Derek in his kitchen making coffee, and couldn't help but wonder what had happened last night.

"Morning," Derek said, looking at him with a smirk. "Sleep well?"

He shrugged, scratching his head. "Okay, I guess." Derek held out a cup of coffee to him which he graciously took, adding sugar to it. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go for it."

He exhaled, biting his cheek. "...What happened last night?"

Derek set the coffee pot on the counter. "... I don't think you want to know."

"I do," Spencer insisted. "Please?"

He sighed, eyeing Spencer. "You had a _really_ rough night."

He ran a hand through his hair. "...I didn't use again, did I?"

Derek quickly shook his head. "I got here and stopped you before you could."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "And thank you."

"Don't sweat it."

"Have you - were you here all night?"

He nodded, gripping the counter. "Someone had to keep an eye on you, and I didn't mind."

"Thanks again." He finished his coffee, pouring a second cup.

"What time's your meeting?"

Meeting? Spencer thought to himself before he realized Derek was talking about his next NA meeting. "Not until 4:00."

"No problem, I'll get you there. Do you know you talk in your sleep?"

He shook his head. "News to me."

"It's mostly mathematical formulas and equations. I walk in, thinking you're sitting in bed talking to yourself, and you're fast asleep, mumbling the pythagorean theorem."

Spencer smiled slightly, shrugging, sipping his coffee. "Not sure when that started. I mean, Emily never-" he paused, shaking his head. "I didn't know I did it."

Derek sighed, squeezing his shoulder. "If you need to talk or anything, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He sniffed, nodding. "I know. I just… I need my meeting." He glanced up at Derek. "I appreciate you being there for me, and the fact that last night will stay between us, but… you don't know addiction. You don't know how much it took me not to shove that needle in my arm last night-"

Derek put up his hand to quiet him. "I get it. Just as long as you talk to somebody. Now, can I let you in on a secret?"

"...I guess?"

He grabbed a folder from the counter Spencer hadn't noticed before, holding it out to him. "I promised."

Spencer took it, opening it and looking through. "...You're trying to track down Declan."

"He's the one thing Doyle wants, and if we find him, we find Doyle. We find Doyle, he's all yours. Now, are you in?"

Spencer nodded. "I'm in," he smiled slightly, closing the folder and holding it out to him. "Thank you."

* * *

Derek ended up staying the whole day, so he could be sure that Spencer made it to his NA meeting. At the meeting, Spencer put everything out on the table. He talked about losing the love of his life, his struggle to keep his focus on the job, and finally, the events of the night before. It took a lot for him to talk about his addiction, but he knew everyone in that room had the same problem at some time or another. He took much more time than he usually did, but he knew he needed an outlet that wasn't someone on the team, one that would understand what he was going through and know his problems.

When he walked out of the meeting, Derek was still in the parking lot, the engine running. Spencer sighed, walking over and getting in, closing the door and buckling himself.

"You good?"

He shrugged. "I do feel better. I just hope it helps in the long run."

"If you need anymore rides, just let me know, I'll be here. That goes for talks and distractions too."

He smiled slightly, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, you know, for everything."

"Don't sweat it. Do you need some company tonight, or do you want to be alone?"

He swallowed. "Would you mind if, you know, just tonight you stayed on the couch again? That meeting took a lot out of me and I don't want to worry about another breakdown happening tonight."

"No problem. I've still got my go bag."

He nodded, clearing his throat. "And um, about what's in my trash-"

"I already took it out to the dumpster and watched the garbage truck grab it. All evidence of it is gone and your secret's safe with me."

He mumbled a thank you, straightening up in his seat as Derek put the car into drive.

* * *

Since that day, Spencer did his best to stay positive, despite the obvious. He had put Emily and all things involving her into the back of his mind, though his apartment would still bring up the emotions. When he felt himself getting upset, he'd go to JJ's house and talk to her, which usually resulted in him crying. After ten weeks of going to her place, he realized that he could solve his problems on his own and didn't want to bother her. Despite the fact he wanted to keep holding on to her, he had to let her go and stop letting her loss control everything in his life. To distract himself, he threw himself into work, and more importantly, helping Derek and Garcia with the Ian Doyle case. When he wasn't at work, on a case, or helping them, he'd be at the firing range, doing his best to fix his shot and hit the bullseye every time.

JJ coming back to the team was comforting, and having her back as a profiler made it even better, because they were no longer separated by different jobs and he could talk to her when he pleased, rather than worrying about interrupting something. Having the team feel like it had a sense of normalcy again was just what he needed, and he easily fell back into his usual routines.

When Hotch had started work in Pakistan, that was when they took the Doyle case and prioritized it. Hotch had no problem with them focusing their attention on it, so long as they still got their work done at the end of the day.

He sat in Derek's office, looking through some folders and sighing.

"What's up, Boy Wonder?" Garcia asked, turning to him.

He swallowed, shaking his head. "I um, I need to get to the firing range. Are you two going to be okay with this?"

Garcia looked ready to interrupt but Derek nodded. "Yeah, we've got it. Go ahead."

He cleared his throat, getting up and putting his bag over his shoulder. "If Rossi or JJ come looking for me-"

"You're working on re-certification," Derek said, opening another folder.

He smiled slightly, nodding and walking out.

* * *

It wasn't long after that when Garcia had found Declan's new identity and was able to locate him. Because of that, she'd set up surveillance cameras outside of his home and school. When one day a month later, she found Ian Doyle driving by the school, she immediately alerted Derek, which warranted them stationing agents at Declan's house. Though upset by their actions, Hotch had given them the okay to keep an eye out. The team had split up: JJ and Derek were doing surveillance at what was suspected as Doyle's apartment, while Spencer and Rossi went to check on Declan.

"Doing okay, kid?" Rossi asked, turning to him.

Spencer sighed. "I'll be much better when we have Doyle in custody."

"You and I both," he mumbled, turning down the radio and pulling up in front of the house.

Spencer took out his phone, calling JJ.

"Hey, Spence," she answered.

"...We can't find him."

She paused. "What - what do you _mean_ you can't find him?"

He got out of the SUV, closing the door and walking toward the house. "The headmaster said Declan got sick and went home."

"Oh, just - okay, uh," she stammered, "Call for backup and get to the house."

"We're already here."

"You see the agents?"

He turned to look behind him. "Their car is out front."

Rossi reached for his gun. "The lights are off."

"I'll call you back," Spencer said, hanging up and stuffing his phone into his pocket, reaching for his own gun, following him before taking the lead and walking inside.

* * *

Inside the house, Rossi took downstairs while he went upstairs to look around. Once realizing it was clear, he went downstairs to help Rossi, as he hadn't heard anything from him. He found one of the agents and after checking his pulse, sighed, realizing that they were too late to help him. Finding one of their own dead wasn't something he ever wanted to get used to.

"I'll check the back, you take the hallway," Rossi told him.

He nodded slightly, getting up and walking down the hallway, his gun and flashlight in front of him. Seeing the closet door ajar, he stepped forward, pulling it open, his eyes widening when a bloodied body fell out.

He looked up as Rossi walked in. "Must be the nanny."

"...Three bodies and no kid? Doyle's got him."

He bit down on his cheek and got up, taking out his phone and calling JJ. Before she could talk, he sighed. "JJ, I don't know where he is, but he's gone."

"Spence, what do you mean he's gone?"

"He's not in the house. We have two dead agents and his nanny, but no sign of him at all."

She sighed. "Morgan has something with Doyle, I'll call you back."

After she hung up, Spencer waited with Rossi for the cops to show up before returning back to the BAU. It went unsaid that they all knew their jobs just got a whole lot harder.

* * *

It wasn't long after that when Spencer's phone rang again. He stepped away from the crime scene tech and walked outside, answering his phone. "Yeah, JJ?"

"We got him," she put plainly.

He paused, his mouth hanging open. "...We got him?" he repeated, in disbelief.

"Morgan had the right hunch about finding him, chased him up to the roof, demanded that nobody shoot, went over and cuffed him. We're on our way back to the BAU with him now."

Spencer could've cried he was so relieved. "We'll be there soon."

"Spence, you don't-"

Before she could get another word in, he hung up, stuffing the phone into his pocket and walking back inside.

"She didn't see a team on the footage," Rossi told him after hanging up his own phone.

Spencer looked up at him. "This was well organized. One could have cut the camera while the other started in here."

"So, they cut off the power, but no signs of forced entry." He looked around the room. "So, how do you overpower two armed agents?"

"A male and a female," he started, crossing his arms, "maybe whoever did this posed as the next shift?"

"Makes sense… everything about them seems efficient."

"Except they took the time to shove her in the closet."

"So it's personal _and_ professional."

Spencer walked down the hallway toward the closet, Rossi following. "Only Declan and the caregiver live here, so whose stuff is this?" he asked, motioning toward the clothes hanging up.

Rossi checked the sleeve. "40 Long…"

"You still think Doyle is behind this?" he asked.

"He's capable of a lot of things, but being two places at once isn't one of 'em."

Spencer exhaled, looking at him. "They found Doyle."

"Do they know where Declan is?"

He shook his head. "No news, but we got him alive and they're on their way to the BAU."

Rossi took the keys out of his pocket. "I'll drive."

* * *

The entire ride over, Spencer's mind was in overdrive. This was the moment he was waiting for. This is the one thing he wanted: Ian Doyle in their custody. Once all of this was over, he'd be able to give that bastard a piece of his mind and then some. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in the seat and exhaling.

"You okay over there, kid?" Rossi asked, glancing over at him.

He nodded, swallowing and clearing his throat. "Just never thought this would happen," he admitted. "After Emily, I just-" he paused, chewing on his cheek. "I'm glad we could take him alive."

He looked at Spencer, confused. "Did you want to talk to him?"

"I don't know, maybe? It's just, there's a lot going through my mind right now, including what happened with Emily, and I'm glad that we can, in some way, get justice for her by having him. You know, like she didn't die for nothing." After the words left his mouth, his heart sank into his stomach, but he tried not to show that he was upset. Instead, he kept his gaze straight, reaching down and picking at his nails, not noticing the new habit. His phone went off in his pocket and he took it out, checking it. "...Hotch just landed in D.C. I guess he's more likely than not upset with us for doing this."

Rossi shrugged. "As our unit chief, I'm sure he's not happy that our acting unit chief prioritized an old case for revenge. As a member of our team who had to lose another member, I'm sure he's both relieved and ecstatic that the team was able to get him. Just don't try to profile him when we see him."

Spencer smiled slightly, nodding. "I know better than that after eight years."

* * *

When they arrived back at the BAU, Spencer wanted to go straight to the interrogation room to see for himself that Derek had come through on his promise. He started walking that way when Rossi stepped in front of him. "Where are you going?"

"...Where else? I'm going to see Doyle."

Rossi shook his head. "Oh no, you're not. We don't need you on the other side of that glass right now. Morgan would want you with Garcia, going through Doyle's contacts, and finding out who did this to Declan."

Morgan would want it? That was a laugh. Morgan promised him that he could have his shot at Doyle, given the opportunity. Unfortunately, Rossi didn't know this, and even more unfortunately, he was right. Rather than throwing a pointless tantrum, he turned around while Rossi turned toward the interrogation rooms. Pushing aside his anger that Rossi was able to go and he wasn't, he threw himself back into the case.

Spencer was in the conference room with Garcia, going over all of the details, when Hotch told them he was calling a meeting. He turned to Garcia after he left.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" she asked, toying with the rings on her fingers.

"Oh, I'm sure of it, and I'm pretty sure it extends beyond Hotch's control," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and sighing. "How much, however, is the question."

She made a face, chewing on her cheek. "I can _feel_ the bad for this already," she mumbled.

Before he could respond, he saw Derek walking in. "You getting anywhere with Doyle?" he asked hopefully.

"Doyle doesn't think Gerace has the guts to take him on," Derek explained.

Garcia sighed, uncrossing her arms and swinging the remote in her hand. "But that's _definitely_ Gerace on the tape," she said, walking over to her seat and sitting down.

"Welcome back," Derek said as Hotch walked into the room.

"Thanks. Everybody, have a seat," he said, crossing his arms, JJ soon joining him.

"Why, what's going on? Everything all right?" Derek asked, sitting down.

Hotch stared at the table instead of the team. "Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team."

Spencer quickly did the math in his head. Seven months ago would put them… back in Boston. He couldn't even imagine what Hotch was going to say, but he knew it wasn't going to make him feel any better.

"As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration."

Spencer tuned out of the conversation. Wait, did he say _stabilize_? Stabilization after that much blood loss would be a good thing, no, it would be a _great_ thing. Stabilized would mean that she survived, and that she was alive. But wait, if she was alive, why didn't he know? Why was JJ standing beside Hotch? What did she know that the rest of them didn't? His relief quickly transitioned into anger and confusion.

"Her identity was strictly need-to-know, and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security."

_Paris?_ Spencer had been getting those anonymous calls from Paris, but he just assumed they were part of a prank or a joke from a kid in France who wanted to rack up his phone bill. If she was in Paris, was Emily trying to get in touch with him? If so, why didn't she ever say anything?

Garcia was the first of them to speak up. "She's _alive_?"

Hotch exhaled, keeping his gaze down, obviously not able to face the team.

Spencer glanced over at Derek, and his face was pretty much a visualization of how his insides felt right now. So many emotions were coursing through him that he wasn't sure what was going on. He then turned back to face Hotch. "...But we buried her," he said softly.

"As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me," Hotch finished, looking back at the team.

"Any issues?!" Derek snapped. "Yeah, I got issues."

* * *

Spencer had a knot in his stomach the size of a basketball, he was sure of it. He had never felt this nervous and hurt in his entire life, and he'd been through a whole lot in his 29 years. He was glad that Derek was able to find his voice, because he couldn't trust himself to open his mouth again without breaking. He heard footsteps approaching and paused. No, it couldn't be. There was no way this was actually happening. Any second now, his alarm was going to go off, and this was going to be another nightmare that was a side effect of his migraine medication, yes, that was it.

Despite that, he turned around and his chair to see the source of the noise. Seeing Emily standing there, alive and well, seven months later, he had a lump in his throat, and the knot only pulled tighter. Emily was _here_. She was right there, standing in front of him and the rest of the team, a bag over her shoulder, looking extremely sympathetic, and just as gorgeous as Spencer had remembered her. Yes, this was going to be when he woke up.

"Oh, my _God_," Garcia choked out.

All Spencer could think was that he needed his alarm to go off, and now, because the fact that he was still in this nightmare was cruel and unusual.


	5. Chapter 5

Emily stepped into the room and Spencer stood, unsure of what he was supposed to do. In his dreams and in his nightmares, he was never able to touch her. He'd try and his alarm would go off, or he'd wake with a start and spend the rest of the night reading on the couch and trying to get his mind off of it. She hugged a few of the team members before turning to Spencer, a certain look in her eyes, one that he couldn't quite read. She looked at him hesitantly before stepping closer to him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Wait, a hug that he could actually _feel_? This couldn't be a dream, it _had_ to be real. He bent down and hooked his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She let go far too soon for his liking, and he kept his expression undetectable.

"I am _so_ sorry," she started, looking right at Spencer and squeezing his shoulder. "I really am. Not a day went by that I didn't want to…" She turned to see the look Derek was giving her. "Really, I…" she started, stepping toward him. "You didn't deserve that, and I'm so sorry." She rubbed his arm before hugging him too, sighing.

Derek hesitantly reached up, running a hand over her back, his eyes on Spencer after she pulled back. Spencer knew that, after all of this was over, Derek was going to be there to talk to him, and he'd desperately need it. So many things were running through Spencer's mind right now that the case felt like the last thing there.

"There is so much I want to tell you guys, and, and I will, I promise, but right now, I really need to know what's going on with Declan."

Spencer's mind snapped out of it, stepping toward her. The case _had_ to be a priority right now. "Emily, was there a man living at the house?" Emily. He was able to use her name in a conversation without getting upset because she was gone. She was actually here, in the flesh.

"Yes, my friend Tom Koehler, he was raising Declan as his own."

"Where is he?" JJ asked.

"I never saw him go in or out of that house." Garcia added.

"Uh, he was on assignment overseas."

JJ put her hand out. "But, but he's all right?"

"Yes, he's on his way back now. He got a call from Declan, he called me, and when I landed, Hotch told me that you had Doyle in custody."

"And because of Tom's line of work, that's why you enrolled Declan in a boarding school."

"I made sure that he, Louise, and I were the only ones allowed to take him off campus."

"Louise took him home last night because he was sick," Spencer said.

"Food poisoning."

Spencer nodded. "Yeah, a few of the kids had it, apparently, so whoever did this got to him on campus. They knew they only had one chance."

"Current suspect is Richard Gerace. He's the most recent arrival into the States. We've been tracking his progress through the city but we came up empty."

"We- We know it's him because he has the scar," Garcia said, recalling the security footage.

Emily shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago."

"He said you were the only one who knew Gerace."

"Which is why I'm pretty sure he doesn't have the balls to pull this off." Emily paused, turning to Hotch. "There was no forced entry at the house?"

"I had two agents working security," Derek spoke up, his first contribution since Emily talked to him.

Spencer chewed on his cheek, feeling the tension in the room. "We think Gerace and his partner posed as the next shift, and one of the agents was a woman."

"She's the alpha."

JJ sighed. "So we're looking for a woman who's getting back at Doyle."

Emily crossed her arms, nodding. "And our suspect list just got a whole lot longer."

* * *

Not long after, Garcia led JJ and Emily to her lair to work out a few details only Emily would know, leaving Spencer, Derek, Rossi, and Hotch in the conference room. Spencer sat back down, trying to absorb everything that had just happened. Emily was back, he knew this for a fact, because she was alive and had just hugged him. This wasn't a nightmare, it was real. He'd been lied to, by not one, not two, but three of the people he trusted most in the world. Emily never let him know that she was alive, and he spent the last seven months absolutely miserable. JJ knew, even when he'd come over to her place and cry until he had nothing left in him, she _knew_, and didn't have the decency to tell him the truth. Even Hotch knew. Hotch saw how miserable he was after Emily had died, and he still didn't say a damn thing. Derek seemed to be expressing everything he couldn't at the moment, because of the state of shock he was in. Derek paced the room, swore a few times, and sent a few glances at Hotch, but never outright said anything. As much as Spencer wanted to be angry right now and throw a fit, he couldn't, because that boy's life was on the line and he needed to find him. Afterward, however, would be a whole other story.

Shortly after discovering that it had to be Declan's mother, they were able to get her name from Doyle, and from there, everything escalated. Emily stayed in the interrogation room with Doyle, and Spencer knew that distance between them right now was safest, because being with her right now would result in him saying a lot of things he'd regret. Instead, he worked with the team to try to figure out where Chloe would be. When Emily came back into the room, he paused, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Instead of saying anything, he sat back and watched everyone else converse and come to the conclusions.

After Hotch had said 'let's go', everyone had left the room and gone toward the SUVs.

"Where are you going?" Hotch asked, looking at Emily.

"...Exactly what I came here for. I'm helping you find Declan."

"As of right now, you're not an FBI employee. I can't have you out in the field."

She stammered. "But, Hotch, even if I'm not an employee, this is my case. It's why I'm here."

He shook his head. "I need you to stay here with Doyle, we'll go to the warehouse and find Declan."

She paused. "As you said, I'm not an FBI employee. What if a new lead pops up and I'm the only one at the BAU?"

Hotch thought for a moment before turning around to face Spencer. Oh no, definitely not. Hotch was _not_ going to leave him alone with her right now. "Reid?"

Spencer looked up at him.

"I want you to stay here with Prentiss, keep an eye on Doyle, and if anything else does come up, call me immediately."

He chewed on his cheek. "Are you sure you don't want to leave Morgan or Rossi here? Clearly they'd be better to send if something were to happen."

Again, he shook his head. "If I'm going to keep anyone here, it's going to be you. We have McDermott and Gerace at the warehouse to worry about, and I'd rather you be here profiling Doyle."

Spencer resisted the urge to grit his teeth and nodded. "Yes, _sir_." Before anyone could say anything to him, he turned and walked back up the stairs and to the conference room.

* * *

Spencer put his elbows on the table, resting his head into his hands and pressing his palms against his eyes. Really? He was going to be left alone with her right now? This wouldn't end well.

He heard footsteps again and sighed, knowing they were hers. He wasn't going to talk to her, not here and now. Their focus needed to be on the case at hand. Looking up, he saw her with her mouth open, at a loss for words. Before she could say anything, he cleared his throat, standing up. "We should keep an eye on Doyle," he muttered, turning and walking back to the interrogation room. All he could hear as he walked were the footsteps behind him and he sighed, doing everything in his power not to turn around and wrap his arms around her again. He was mad, and he had every right to be, considering what happened and everything he'd gone through. He wasn't going to give in easy, because if the tables were turned, he knew she'd be just as aggravated, if not more.

They stood there in an awkward silence, for how long Spencer wasn't sure. He took a few glances at Emily, as if to confirm that this was all still real. He snapped out of it when his phone rang in his pocket. Taking it out, he quickly checked the caller ID before answering.

"Yeah?" he said shortly.

"Kid, Declan isn't here. Gerace's dead and there's no sign of McDermott or Donaghy."

He quickly hung up, staring straight ahead. "Declan's disappeared." He quickly looked at Emily before walking away. "They had him at the warehouse, but now they're gone." Walking into the interrogation room, he closed the door behind him. "Your ex is working with Lachlan McDermott. How would he leave the country?"

Doyle kept his head down. "I don't know. He's got endless funds, you'll never stop him."

"And he hates you, doesn't he?"

"More than you do."

Oh he _highly_ doubted that. "Then I think we should give him what he really wants. You." He kept his eyes on Doyle the whole time, and didn't care about intimidating him.

The door burst open. "No, we are _not_ letting him out of here, Reid."

_Reid_? She was alive and well and now he was back to being _Reid_? He could see how it was.

"Emily, I will chain myself to him if I have to."

"He'll find a way to escape," she tried to reason.

"No he won't," he snapped, "and we're running out of time; if we find McDermott now, we have a chance to save Declan."

She eyed him and looked back at Doyle, sighing. "Fine."

"Go tell Strauss, I'll get a helicopter ready to go in ten minutes."

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get anything out, he walked out of the room.

* * *

He guessed that convincing Strauss was like pulling teeth, but in that moment he didn't care, and he knew Emily didn't either because she cared about Declan's well-being. When she came to him minutes later with another FBI agent and Doyle, he nodded, getting into the elevator to access the roof. The helicopter ride to Maryland was a quiet one, not only because of how awkward it was for the two of them, but because they also had Doyle right there. Where else would Spencer want to be then next to the man who nearly killed his girlfriend and his girlfriend, who had completely lied to him and stayed away for the past seven months?

When they arrived, Hotch already had the plane stopped and was telling them they would trade Doyle for Declan. It didn't take long for the stairs of the jet to descend and McDermott to walk down with Declan.

"Bring Doyle here!" he called. "I want him here on his knees."

Spencer gripped Doyle's arm, walking over to him. He knew this wasn't really going to happen, and nobody was leaving without a body-bag or handcuffs. The fact that they'd put Doyle in a Kevlar had disgusted him - how was he _worth_ one, considering everything he'd done, and everything he'd put the team through?

They approached McDermott and he eyed Doyle. "You bastard. How's it feel, then? It's your bloody time now, isn't it? Now hand him over."

Spencer saw someone walking down the stairs with a gun, and saw it aimed at Doyle. If there was even the slightest misfire, he'd lose Emily again, and this time probably for good. Even though he was angry, he couldn't let that happen and go through that emotional hell all over again.

"Gun!" Derek called out.

Spencer heard the first bullet and let go of Doyle's arm, reaching for his own gun and shooting four times, hitting his target. He may not have been able to kill Doyle, but at least he was able to take down someone that could've hurt Emily. He walked over and pushed the gun away from McDermott, before looking back at Emily, whose eyes were on Doyle and arms were wrapped around Declan, the two of them having a brief reunion before Doyle had died.

They all stood there in silence and waited for the scene to be cleared before going back to the SUVs for the long drive back to Quantico.

* * *

Spencer had opted to go in an SUV with Derek and Rossi, while Emily had gone with Hotch and JJ. Considering they were in on her secret, _they_ could be the ones together right now. Rossi had offered to drive and Spencer decided to sit in the back seat, leaning back and sighing to himself, trying to wrap his head around the last 24 hours. He had finally coped: he hadn't fully accepted the fact that Emily was gone, but he was okay with it to a certain extent that still allowed him to work and function as a member of the BAU. Part of him told him that he should be relieved that she was back and they could start back up right from where they left off. But the other part of him was winning right now, telling him that three people he trusted didn't trust him enough to know something this important. He was disappointed in Hotch and JJ for what they did, but he was especially disappointed in Emily for not saying a single word to him in seven months. This was definitely a hurt that wasn't going to heal overnight.

Derek turned around, facing Spencer. "You okay, kid?"

He cleared his throat, nodding and sitting up straight. "Just a headache. Long day," he mumbled, resting his head against his hand.

"I hear you. When we get back, want me to drop you off at your place so you don't need to take the train?"

"Sounds great." He knew that 'so you don't need to take the train' was a loose translation of 'so you can rant until your heart's content', and he appreciated it.

Rossi's phone started ringing and he reached in his pocket, answering it and putting it on speaker. "Yeah, Hotch?"

"Strauss just called, saying the director found out about what happened today. When we get back to Quantico, she wants to see all of us in the conference room immediately."

Rossi raised his eyebrows. "...That can't be good."

"Probably not."

Rossi hung up his phone, stuffing it back into his pocket and gripping the steering wheel. "My money's on suspension."

"Without pay," Spencer added. "And more likely than not, a hearing with the committee about what exactly happened tonight."

"...Read the manual lately?" Derek asked.

He shook his head. "Setback of an eidetic memory."

* * *

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket a few times, but chose to ignore it. If it was anyone in the other SUV, he'd rather not have to hear, or in this case see, anything they had to say to him. For the rest of the drive, he put his legs up on the seat and crossed his arms, trying to get a few minutes of sleep.

A pat on his leg told him that they'd arrived back at the BAU. He sighed, sitting up and unbuckling himself before getting out, stretching.

"So it's just a meeting with Strauss?" Derek asked.

"It's what Hotch said?"

"Doesn't make it true," Spencer muttered, taking his badge out of his pocket and walking toward the doors.

It was a silent trip on the elevator and they'd been the first to arrive in the conference room. Spencer sat down in his usual seat, chewing on his cheek and twiddling his thumbs to keep himself occupied. When the rest of the team arrived, he kept his focus on his hands, waiting for Strauss to come in. JJ walked in, sliding a set of keys over to Emily.

"Your apartment's still in order and I've been keeping the keys in the safe in my old office."

Emily reached out, taking the keys and putting them into her pocket. Spencer saw her trying to make eye contact, but avoided it.

Strauss walked in, closing the door behind her and turning to the team. "I can't say that I approve of how everything transpired today," she started, crossing her arms and looking around. "This doesn't come down on you as individuals, it comes down on you as a team, and it comes down on the entire department."

Spencer chanced a glance up at the rest of the team, but got nothing from any of them.

"The director heard about the case, and he wanted all of you suspended indefinitely. _However_, I was able to talk him down, using your casework over the last few months to show him that you were dedicated to your jobs."

"How long?" Hotch asked.

She sighed. "Two weeks suspension, without pay. You can apply to be reinstated as a member of the BAU before your trial."

"..._Trial_?" Derek spoke up.

She nodded toward him. "When a team seems to go rogue, the FBI doesn't take it lightly. You'll all speak before the committee, tell them what happened from your perspective, and they'll come to a decision if you'll be getting your jobs back." She looked around the room. "I'm going to need you to leave your credentials and guns, you'll get them back when you return to the BAU."

"_When_?" Rossi asked. "Not _if_?"

"I have faith that the committee will see what was done and realize that, though not traditional, it was in the best interest of the boy." She exhaled. "Turn in everything and go home, get some sleep, and start thinking about what you're going to tell the committee. I'll be in touch with your trial date."

* * *

After she walked out, they all looked around at each other in disbelief. Though they didn't follow the rules at all, none of them had expected punishment for what they'd done.

Spencer was the first to react, taking his gun out of his holster and sliding it to the middle of the table, along with his credentials. Getting up from his chair, he walked out to his desk, pulled on his jacket, and put his bag over his shoulder. He wasn't ready to face his team, talk to them, or forgive half of them for what they'd done to him.

When he saw Derek walking out right after him, he followed him to his office, then to his car. While driving, Derek turned to him.

"Stupid question time, but are you okay?"

Spencer took a deep breath, thinking about the best response he could give to the question before shaking his head. "Would you be?" he said softly.

He sighed. "Guess not. Do you need some company in your apartment tonight?"

He thought it over and shook his head. "Would it be okay with you if I packed and stayed at your place? I just… Emily might stop by and-"

"Enough said."

For months, Spencer hoped and prayed that he could have Emily back, but not like this: not in a way that meant three of the people he cared about and respected most in the world lied to him and in turn made him absolutely miserable for more than half of a year. He'd finally gotten to a place where he'd accepted her loss and was able to finally let all of the tension go. Unfortunately, discovering she was alive made all of those feelings resurface, and for the first time in a long time, he had no clue what he was going to do.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Third story in this series, following how Spencer and Emily deal with her return, is currently in the works.


End file.
